No Choice
by CyKiESuMMerS
Summary: Not your typical counseling scenario. With Emma Frost,rules don't matter & neither do laws. Consensual means nothing to an alpha female like herself with a PhD. Inspired by an episode between Callie &Mark in the Ugly Americans.  R & R!


**A.N.: REVIEW!  
><strong>

**Chapter UNO**

* * *

><p><strong>He had found her as a distraught colleague who broke down in front of him after a counseling therapy session that was supposed to be helping him.<strong>

**But as the chivalrous and oft not frightened nor amused fearless leader was suddenly interrupted** during his rather forced interview of his psyche that upon the pressures of the faculty members and Charles, and especially the therapist herself, Cyclops was obligatorily scheduled to these listless meetings, and his mundane list of thoughts he had begun stringing out redundantly, to appease the worried staff,put his dormant worries away and sought to help whatever damsel was in distress even if her license and job was to do vice versa for him.

Witness to a lady crying did not embarrass or shame him and he immediately took her stance and comforted the distraught colleague who ended up on the couch that he was supposed to occupy as a client and patient.

Now, he was unsure how the positions had switched so much in what seemed like no time at all, and worriedly began to wonder about the time and whether it was time to end their session yet, while listening with his other trained ear to her teary woes and then her own self reprimands, self-defeating thoughts, and then the solutions and roots to these problems that immediately brightened her up.

As in his considerate and polite style, Cyclops listened patiently, offered some advice here and there and feebly held up another wad of clean tissues, which were snatched as soon as the pearly tears fell, some dripping on his muscle ridged collarbone, which was uncovered by the unbuttoned top buttons of his starched white work shirt, whose collar had been wrinkled in the distressed hands of the lady he was rescuing, who was not above using his muscled shoulder as a shoulder to lean on.

"And now that I think about it, the drugs had nothing to do with all of it! If that silly little man hadn't taken my eggs during that coma and if that siege had not gone wrong in the first place I'd never have to be a mother with maternal instincts and those twin girls or quintuplet whatever's politically correct now, would never have been born and they wouldn't be hating me and I'd never have wound up at this dreadful institution full of homely kittens that despise me.."

She gulped tearfully once more, trembled, bit her lovely bottom lip and took another tissue from his hand which was offered up towards her.

Eying the clock with one ruby-encased eye, Scott cleared his throat, "Um. I'm so sorry about all of this Ms. Frost, really, but erm, how is any of this relevant to me having to erm, us to be, in this position? I mean-heh, is it really n-n-necessary?-I, er, I still have a wife, w-would it be alright for me to put my pants back on or would that still be stressing you out more?"

Sighing deeply and closing her blue eyes for a second, she seemed to be taking in a big breath of thought and not to have even heard his query as she sat atop his naked and worn out body which was lying horizontally under her on the therapy couch.

Blowing out her withheld breath, Emma Frost fanned her face daintily with her elegant hand and giggled, "Whoof, I suddenly feel so much better. Thank you Scott, you really do have healing powers for a man of zero tolerance."

He ridged his eyebrows, "Zero tol-.?" But then remembered himself and what was more important, "Ms. Frost, I'm afraid our time is up and my session is over...so if you'd um...r-remove y-yourself f-from my-my ah... I-I mean, I'd l-love to talk even after b-but I think from a d-different position would be much um, alleviating."

His fingers fumbled at the top of his unbuttoned shirt to cover himself back up subtly, as Ms. Frost perched and straddled on his naked hips with her professional counseling work outfit on of a collared blouse and pencil skirt which was hiked up her thighs, she looked down at him as if considering him, with her eyebrow quirked, she reached down and stroked the side of his face tenderly, making his cheeks go redder. "Oh Scott, you are so naive and so endearing when you get all nervous and prude like this."

She sighed blissfully, her chest heaving in contentment.

She lazily swatted his browned hand away from his collar, and replaced them with her own as she hastily unbuttoned down the rest of the length of his shirt.

The notepad he had taken from her and used to jot down notes of her mind was abandoned on the office floor as well as her lacy lavender underwear.

The image was quite comical, if the situation could be funny. The prude and oblivious handsome fearless leader lying flat on the couch with his pants and briefs tugged down to his ankles and his brown Italian leather shoes still on. And a beautiful succubus of a woman wiping tears from her docile eyes, straddling his hips with her work outfit on, heels planted at either side of his waist, and her skirt curtaining her thighs. His expression of pure terror and awkward torture, hers one of trembling bliss and sorrow.

The messy bun she had twisted on top of her head was falling apart and coming loose from her excursion on top of the fearless leader, and he briefly worried about the silver hair clip keeping her hair together, falling out and stabbing him in the groin.

He lay rigidly on the couch, every nerve of his body stiff and sending alarm signals to his shutting down brain.

He squirmed slightly, hoping she wouldn't notice, as despite being taken advantage of, he was still a gentleman and did not want to hurt her feelings.

Awkwardly, he slowly raised both his hands from his sides where they had been laying limply, and shaking, he finally grasped her hips with his sturdy hands, in the act of removing a sitting female body from his appendages.

Taking his movement the wrong way, this only excited Scott's formerly to his standards respectable peer, and she was soon bouncing up and down, pushing both hands down on his abs as she did so, and his hands still tightly squeezed around her hips, frozen and completely unsure of what to do.

The silver clip could only handle so much action.

And her head figuratively exploded at the same time her hair burst apart, free of the silver metal hair clip, and exploded in the air in a wavy and shimmery explosion, then cascaded down her bare shoulders, where her blouse was no unbuttoned, so that her sleeves and bra straps slipped down her shoulders, billowing into a a deep V at the center of her core.

Scott's trembling world, earthquaked red vision thanks to the bouncing therapist atop him, flashed suddenly green for a moment, before the searing pain sank in and he let out a deep, restrained and pained groan, which Emma Frost found to be equally exciting and encouraging as his pleasure.

Panting, Scott shoved the girl stickily back off his pelvis and threw his head back, his neck exposed as he cried out, sweating by now.

Raising his head a few inches from the arm of the couch, he raised his dark brows at the sight in front of him as he looked down his body, then faintly whimpering, his red glasses blacked out as his eyeballs rolled backwards and then his head fell back, his bangs limply hanging back on his head.

The rounded purple eyes that had met his before he fainted suddenly noticed the blood coming from his inner thighs and the metal platinum clip that had dropped on his lap.

A.N.: review! next chapter...scott wakes up. to what?


End file.
